


Maybe, you.

by aprilswanxx



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellarke, F/M, Love, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, clarke having a vivid imagination, possible reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 11:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7975237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aprilswanxx/pseuds/aprilswanxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke has worked at the little boutique, 'The 100', for two years now. Not once has she ever felt this way. Not once has she ever let herself fall so deep, get so consumed by her own thoughts. And not once, has she seen him walk into the place, and have her on her knees making promises she was dying to keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe, you.

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to be writing the next chapter of Fast Car, when this happened. 
> 
> To be honest, I still don't know how it happened.

Maybe, you.

 

 

Behind the thick clouds, was a flicker of red. It painted the sky like nothing she’d ever seen before. Hues of pink, orange, and yellow intermixed in a way only the greatest of artists could accomplish, and the world was attempting, and succeeding at being beautiful on this treacherous morning.

 

Before the thick clouds, was a small little boutique called ‘The 100’. The sign, larger than the building itself, was newly refurbished giving it a clean white look to the otherwise cozy and slightly beat up red brick surrounding it.

 

Clarke Griffin had been working at the shop since she was nineteen, now two years and a promotion later she was still spending thirty hours a week tucked in the corner of Kane Street. It had started as a way to pay for medical school, but when shit hit the fan, she realized that medicine wasn’t the path she wanted to pursue.

 

So, she stayed, turning part-time to full-time while still not knowing what her next move will be.

 

That morning, the autumn air was crisp. A shiver ran through her lungs as she inhaled deeply, watching for that beat up blue pick-up truck that should have been in the parking lot by now. With one final tired glance, she shook her blonde curls, a sly smile surfacing before she unlocked the latch and pulled the doors opened entering the little shop.

 

“It brings me the upmost, extremely best, pleasure to see that smirk of yours fall,” Raven Reyes said from behind the long oak counter.

 

Clarke froze on the spot, in the space between the maroon printed tees and dark blue jeggings.

 

“I didn’t see your truck parked out front?” Clarke questioned.

 

It was Raven’s turn to smirk, “I got a ride.”

 

“From who?”

 

When the brunette, who let her hair down today instead of her usual pinned up look, didn’t respond, a knowing smile and a raised eyebrow welcomed her.

 

Raven groaned in her hands, sliding from one side of the counter to the other. Clarke watched with sheer amusement as Raven pulled a pair of pants from a large box on the floor and proceeded to hang up some merchandise instead of answer such a simple question.

 

“We both know who it was, so you can say his name out loud, very much like you, no doubt, screamed it last night or I can—”

 

“Shit, for fucks sake, yes okay,” Raven slammed the hanger against the table top, “It was Wick.”

 

Clarke’s grin spread to her eyes which only made her receive a sharp jab against her ribs once she was behind the counter herself.

 

“Shut it.”

 

“I didn’t say anything,” Clarke shrugged her shoulders feigning nonchalant, then added, “Isn’t Monroe supposed to be here?”

 

“She was but something came up. I’m covering for her by extending my shift,” Raven explained.

 

“Ah, and on Sunday?”

 

“Fox and Emori are coming in.”

 

Raven resumed hanging and folding some cute pieces that came in for the fall collection while Clarke went through some paperwork that had to be signed by their manager Anya next time she’s in.

 

From her spot, Clarke could see through the display window as the thick clouds turned grey, a gloominess covering the sunrise.

 

“Looks like it’s going to be a slow day,” Clarke murmured, watching the sky welcome the darkness back all too soon.

 

Raven scoffed, thrusting the hanger against the metal rack roughly. “Like business is great any other day.”

 

“Hey, we get some customers in,” Clarke argued shuffling through the rest of her paper work although her sapphire blue eyes didn’t stray too far from the world outside.

 

“You’re right, completely forgot about the three people that came in last night.”

 

“You weren’t working last night.”

 

Raven’s lips twitched. She still held on to her argument though, going on about how Anya’s a bitch and that’s really why no one shops at her store. Clarke had to stifle a laugh at Raven’s poor imitation of the very intimidating manager.

 

“Shut up,” Clarke chuckled, “She probably has cameras all over the place.”

 

“Wouldn’t put it past her.”

 

The clock on the computer screen in front of them hit 8:00. Clarke’s blonde hair swayed with her as she walked over to the front door, unlocking the hatch and opening up shop for the day.

 

The two girls returned to their work. Fixing up the displays, refolding the t-shirts, making sure price tags were ticketed correctly but soon the place was clean and not a single customer walked through the double doors.

 

With mild chatter in between, Clarke found out that Raven’s truck was at the auto shop needing not one but two touch ups on her paint job.

 

“Fucker tried to tell me that it was fine without the second coat,” Raven grumbled from behind the counter, struggling to redress the mannequin with that new red laced dress that came in a few days ago.

 

Clarke raised an eyebrow, “I thought Sinclair said to bring it over to his place to fix?”

 

Raven paused, throwing Clarke a confused expression, “Babe, I’m talking about Sinclair.”

 

“Right,” she breathed out. Ignoring Raven’s stare, she pressed her lips together, urging her with her left hand to go on.

 

“Right,” the Latina echoed.

 

After a quiet beat, Raven went launching back into her story.

 

\---

 

 

The sun would have been at its peak by now, shining down, tricking everyone into thinking the amber heat was warm enough for a September day only to be disappointed once they actually stepped outside and faced the nipping cool breeze.

 

Except, Clarke couldn’t see it. Not the sun, or a single piece of the blue sky. Clouds dominated, grey and murky and filled to the brim with water just waiting to go loose.

 

“If it stays like this for next two hours, we’re closing up and beating the storm home,” Raven supplied from behind the counter. She was leaning against it, phone out, typing furiously away at Sinclair about her beloved truck.

 

“Fine.”

 

In truth, Clarke held no authority to dismiss them from work early. She was Head Supervisor but all that meant was more hours in the week and a two-dollar increase in pay.

 

When she first arrived in TonDc, a little town just south of Arkadia, she felt like she was finally seeing clearly. Accepting her admission to the small-town- nobody ever goes to except the locals- university, wasn’t hard at all. In fact, she said no to Stanford, Harvard, and Brown all for the sake of being some nameless girl in an even more nameless community where she could run freely without the constant shadow of her mother, her family, or their title looming over her.

 

Anya hired her on the spot. She seemed to know a hardworking, intelligent young girl when she saw one. Or, she knew desperation like she knew the difference between night and day. Although, looking outside now, Clarke couldn’t seem to figure it out.

 

Obviously the overbearing but truly kind mother was a little dismissive. Then when she realized how serious her daughter was, she turned any chance, any moment she could spare into a debate-argument- as to why her daughter should instead accept offers from the ivy league schools. Ultimately, she understood, or was making an effort to understand. Especially when Clarke denied any of the funds her parents saved for her education.

 

Clarke didn’t want to recall her mother’s expression when she finally told her she had dropped out of pre-med and stopped clocking in her volunteer hours at the hospital.

 

She wasn’t currently in school, not at the moment. She was in between majors, switching majors actually but it didn’t matter much. Somehow TonDc was her place. A place where she was content with going to her little more than minimum wage job with her one friend that she works with then back to her tiny apartment building watching reality tv shows every night with her poor interpretation of homemade pizza.

 

“Classes start soon,” Raven announced, pocketing her phone, “Have you finally decided to major in Art Studies?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Clarke responded. She pushed the rolling rack to the far side, out of harm’s way, and met Raven behind the counter. “I mean, I don’t know,” she sighed in defeat.

 

Raven crossed her arms over her chest, waiting silently for the blonde-haired girl to gather her thoughts and express them effectively but it seemed she was having difficulty.

 

“Okay, it’s like,” Clarke began, her gaze shifting up to the ceiling, “I love art, but it’s something I’ve always done as an escape. Something I do for me. Making it real by taking classes, by having it be a career is just weird.”

 

“What’s so weird about that? Yeah, I get it, not everyone is supposed to like their job but if you love yours shouldn’t it be added motivation?”

 

“Yeah, but…” Clarke trailed off, another sigh escaped her parted lips. She turned to face Raven now who held genuine concern. “What if I’m not good enough?”

 

Nodding her head in understanding, as if she knew all along, Raven pulled Clarke’s arm back so they were both leaning against the counter, side by side.

 

“You’re good enough, Griffin. I’ve seen your work, it fucking rocks. And really, if they can’t see how awesome you are, then fuck them!” Raven nudged her shoulder playfully, “As long as you’re happy with it, as long as you think you’re good enough…who cares.”

 

Clarke bit her lip anxiously. A weight, no matter how little it was, lifted off her shoulder. She was always able to voice her concerns and fears to Raven, even when she refused to drop her baggage down like that, bearing it all for anyone to walk by and see.

 

Admitting this today, the sole reason why she never took that final step, felt comforting. It was odd how she found vulnerability attractive, how she found it to be the truest form of strength in a world where you could easily turn your head, your shoulders and fake a smile to hide your pain.

 

“Besides,” Raven added, “If it doesn’t work out and you can’t find a job, you always have your trust fund.”

 

Her joke only got her a slap across her bicep. Raven threw her head back laughing as Clarke rolled her eyes. After finding out that Clarke’s mom was not only a well-known heart surgeon, but the CEO of the hospital, she would not let her live it down. When she found out her father had built an empire in engineering before he passed away, she kept at it with the rich jokes.

 

But, the icing on the cake was when she caught an image of Wells Jaha flash across her phone screen one afternoon, and well, knowing the Senator’s son was enough to ensure a lifetime of snobby rich people jokes.

 

One thing that remained, the only thing that held Clarke back, that allowed her to let Raven make those jokes and actually laugh along with her was the fact that not once did Raven question why Clarke was working at some tiny clothing store in a middle of nowhere town.

 

Somehow, she seemed to accept and maybe even carry a little more pride and respect towards Clarke for that very reason.

 

Clarke didn’t know whether to feel happy or pissed off. She didn’t want anyone questioning her motives, her past, or condescend her for “slumming it down”. At the same time, she never wanted to be congratulated.

 

Because reality was, if she could, if she was really that girl, she probably would have never seen what TonDc was or what it could have offered her. She would be the good girl doctor her mother tried to pass around at dinner parties like a shiny trophy. And Clarke would have loved it.

 

Thankfully, she’s not that girl.

 

She opened her mouth to retort to Raven’s fake whines about how hard the hit was when the bell above the door chimed. Both heads snapped to the front of the store as three figures walked in.

 

“Hi,” a bright smiled brunette with a mess of tangled curls on the ends of her hair called to them. Raven greeted her back while Clarke stood still watching as the girl’s fingers were interlocked with a male’s much longer ones, dragging him in behind her.

 

“Hey, we’re looking for some dresses for a friend’s wedding,” the third figure came out from behind the male’s larger form. Her black hair and piercing cobalt eyes were a strong contrast to her pale skin.

 

She looked from Clarke to Raven waiting their response but Raven was too busy scrutinizing Clarke’s lack of manners and Clarke was too busy staring at the guy that walked in with them.

 

With a shove from Raven, Clarke’s eyes shot to the short girl in front of her and smiled politely, “Yes, all the dresses are at the back” she pointed to the far corner lined with various types of gowns.

 

“Thanks,” the girl smiled back, walking quickly to the couple indicating she found what they were looking for.

 

“You okay?” Raven whispered from beside her.

 

“Mm,” Clarke replied, picking up a random stack of paper, pretending to look busy.

 

Clarke prided herself in many things. One of those things was her ability to stay calm and collected under pressure. Probably why everyone assumed she would be a perfect fit as a doctor. Standing here, now, logic was thrown out the window.

 

The man, the brunette’s boyfriend, was…okay.

 

He wasn’t drop dead sexy like the shirtless guys she watched in those stripper movies, or like some of the tools she used to volunteer with at the hospital. He was rugged, different, and built like no one she’s ever seen before.

 

Brown tousled curls, brown muddy eyes, freckles across the bridge of his nose, some faint, vaguely faint, ones on the tops of his cheeks. If Clarke hadn’t been staring hard enough she would have missed them.

 

All that would’ve been fine. She probably would’ve memorized all those features, most likely have drawn him out the next time she felt the urge to grab her sketchbook, maybe even keep the image of his broad shoulders, wide chest, and shape of his long, lean fingers locked away tight for those nights she needed release.

 

All that would’ve been fine.

 

Excluding the way, he looked at her after crossing the threshold. Even with his girlfriend’s leaching tug and hold on his arm, his eyes racked her face, scanning it like he was trying to find something.

 

“Excuse me? Do you have this in a smaller size?” the girlfriend called out snapping Clarke out of her trance.

 

“Uh, I can check for you,” Clarke replied making her way over there. Beaming brightly, the brunette handed her the dress and leaned closer to her boyfriend, whispered against his neck about something Clarke wasn’t able to make out.

 

“I’m good with this one,” the black-haired girl said, holding up a tight purple number.

 

“Did you want to try it on?” Clarke asked, when the girl nodded, she directed her to the dressing rooms located in the far back to the right side of the boutique.

 

Entering the dressing room, there were three small changing rooms lined side by side with a large sofa facing them. Mirrors covering each wall, Clarke snuck a peek to see that both the black-haired girl and the male figure were following her.

 

“Here you are,” Clarke smiled tightly, placing the item onto the hook inside one of the smaller rooms, “Can I just get your name?”

 

“Ocatvia.”

 

“That’s a pretty name,” Clarke commented smiling at Octavia. She picked up the black marker from its place snapped next to the whiteboard on the door and wrote out Octavia’s name.

 

“Thanks, he named me,” she threw her thumb over her shoulder at the male who’s gaze never left Clarke. “My brother,” Octavia clarified, walking into the room and shutting the door behind her.

 

“Well he chose a pretty name,” she commented not daring to let her blue orbs linger. She was tempted to ask why he chose it, how he came up with it for the sole reason of hearing his voice but her anxiety, the weird stint in the space between them, told her not to.

 

As if reading her thoughts, he shifted from one foot to the other before she heard his deep, masculine voice send tremors through her body, “It was from this Greek myth,” he began only to be cut off by his younger sister.

 

“Fuck,” she groaned, “Don’t start with that shit again, Bell.”

 

“Augustus’ sister?” Clarke asked, finding her voice. The guy-Bell’s- head snapped in her direction so quick she was surprised he didn’t get whiplash. Blushing under his sudden attention, “Uhm, I read the story when I was younger, during my Percy Jackson phase.”

 

As soon as the words left her lips she felt stupid. So utterly stupid. Though, when she looked up, Bell carried amusement in his eyes. He licked his lips, nodding along. She followed the movement of his tongue, then remembering his girlfriend was right outside waiting for Clarke to find her a smaller sized dress. She hurried out of the room and walked straight into Raven.

 

“Woah, did you get Gina a size four?”

 

Clarke looked over Raven’s shoulder to see Bell’s girlfriend, Gina, holding three more dresses in her hand.

 

“No, I’ll get it now.”

 

She side-stepped her friend, disregarding her burning stare. She walked past a smiling Gina, to the section where she had found the dress. She alternated between glancing down at the dress in her hand and searching for the correct size.

 

“Found it?” Gina asked in her cute voice from behind Clarke.

 

With a tight lipped smile, Clarke spared her a glance over her shoulder and held up the dress, “Yep.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Gina walked ahead of her into the dressing room to find Raven and Bell in a serious conversation about cars, or motorcycles or something. Clarke wasn’t really paying attention because as soon as she stepped into the carpeted floor she caught sight of Gina’s lips brush against Bell’s jaw. With a not so subtle wink, she swayed her hips walking into the change room leaving behind a gapped mouthed Clarke and a Raven with a light-bulb-there-it-is look splattered across her face.

 

“I’ll be right back,” Raven told Bell. She pushed past him, then past Clarke.

 

Clarke knew her fierce coworker wanted her to follow, she saw the knowing look in her eye. Yet, she couldn’t. Not with the room seeming so much smaller with only her and him in there, despite his sister and girlfriend only two steps ahead.

 

She should call out to the girls. Let them know that if they needed anything else to ask for her then slip away silently.

 

With him sitting on the couch like that, an arm hanging off the arm rest the other across the back, face forward but stealing glimpses of her with the corner of his eye. It left her planted there.

 

It was funny because Clarke was not this kind of girl.

 

That’s what they all claim but with her, it’s true. For God sakes, she spent last semester between work and home, avoiding finalizing her switch to Art Studies all because she wasn’t entirely sure if she should follow her heart. She still hasn’t signed off on her change of majors.

 

She doesn’t fall hard or fast and certainly not for guys with girlfriends.

 

It happened once before, an even funnier story of how she got played, learned to protect her heart and gained a friend in the process but she doubted it would even happen like that ever again. Besides, if she was going down that path she didn’t want to ever kick Bell to the curb like she did with the other guy who shall remain faceless.

 

She wasn’t a stranger to the occasional heart-racing thought. There were many girls who had come in, and while they were trying on clothes, she imagined being in there with them.

 

Loneliness was nothing anyone could get used to, no matter how much they try to sell you on that idea.

 

Clarke found herself crossing a line. She began imagining moments, stolen kisses, erratic breathing, soft touches like she never, ever should.

 

The image of Bell striding over to her, grabbing her small hand in his much larger one, a much better fit than his and Gina’s, and pulling her into the third changing room was all too vivid in her very active imagination.

 

Her back would hit the door with a soft thud, trying not to create so much noise especially with the room next to them being occupied. A soft warmth of air would meet her neck, his exhales as he starts placing open mouthed kisses along the column of her throat. She would be forced to hold back a growing moan, wanting to let him know how good it felt. How good he felt, with his silky smooth lips charming her in ways she never thought possible.

 

“Shh,” he’d mutter against her collar bone.

 

“I can’t,” a cry would escape only to be cut short by the force of him pressed up against her.

 

“Bellamy?” Gina’s voice cut the vision in her head. She came out of the change room, in a tight pink dress that hugged her in the right places, giving a generous view of her chest.

 

Bell-or rather Bellamy, looked on as his girlfriend twirled in front of him smiling shyly.

 

“What do you think?” Gina asked, standing barefoot in front of him. Bellamy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he shot her a breath taking smile, teeth and all.

 

“You look beautiful, Gina.”

 

“Thank you,” she leaned forward to press a brief kiss to his lips, turning back around to try on the other dresses. At the last second, she torqued, facing Clarke and smiling encouragingly at her.

 

“What do you think?”

 

Clarke swallowed the lump in her throat, gathering enough of herself to smile broadly she said, “He’s right, you look beautiful.”

 

“You’re too sweet,” Gina winked at Clarke, “Oh I was also hoping to try on that red lace dress? The one on the mannequin up front?”

 

“Sure.” With a short nod, Clarke left the room going back onto the sales floor.

 

Raven was behind the counter once more, eyeing Clarke disapprovingly.

 

“Shut—”

 

“I didn’t even say anything yet,” Raven held up her hands in defeat interrupting her friend. “It’s just not like you to drool.”

 

Her snarky comment wasn’t appreciated. Clarke made sure to let her know with a rather vulgar gesture thrown over her shoulder as she fumbled through the hanger searching for the right size.

 

“I don’t drool,” she harshly whispered not bothering to glance up to watch Raven roll her eyes.

 

She reentered the dressing room only to be pinned in her place by the intensive way brown eyes were holding her. Clearing her throat, she called out, “Gina, it’s just hanging outside your door.”

 

“Thanks!” a faint voice called back.

 

The smart move now would be to leave. Back away and leave him with his two girls, a comfort in knowing that the two people he loved were right there. But as the storm thundered out, threatening to pour down all her sorrows with a warning cry, she fell into an abyss.

 

_She was in a blue dress. A darker shade than anything she’d ever seen before on the planet earth. It was like the color belonged to an outside world, to the skies above dusted with twinkling lights and an endless wonder of ‘what if’?_

_It wrapped around her epically. Constituting her waist as if it was three sizes smaller, curving over her hips and leaving nothing to the imagination. It didn’t wash her out like the rosy, simpler colors, but more so made her feel feminine and sexy and exotic._

_She was struggling with the zipper when he came in. Large warm calloused palm ghosting over her bare arms, as the dress was strapless flowing down to the floor with only a tiny slit reaching to mid-calf._

_“I got it,” he whispered against her earlobe, trailing his forefinger from the nape of her neck, all the way down to where the zipper laid. In one swift motion, the dress was loose, threatening to slip off her chest and pool at her feet._

_She held it up though, shivers and nerves racking her veins until a soft pink glow warmed her cheeks._

_The mirror across from them reflected her awestruck expression back to her._

_Her flesh was soft, supple under his rough fingertip. He continued to trail his finger up and down her bare back causing goosebumps to surface in all places. Everywhere._

_“Are you done teasing me?” she asked, holding back a moan._

_His light chuckle tickled the space below her ear. Gently, he pushed her golden locks to one side exposing her pale skin to him. She glanced down, watching as his tan hand clutched her bicep, a vibrant difference, and pulled her back into him._

_Feeling his growing erection against her thigh, she let her moan loose, parting her lips only to tuck her bottom one in between her teeth._

_“Christ,” he muttered, breathing heavily against her jaw._

_He pulled her chin towards him, his thumb flicking over her wet and red bottom lip, tugging it free. He placed an easy, light kiss across her chin, her jaw, going up to the corner of her mouth where she desperately chased his lips. He gave her another spineless chuckle that sent another hit to the space between her legs. Clutching her thighs together, she tried and failed to control her breathing._

_From behind her, he dropped kisses to her neck, the junction between her shoulder and collarbone, then her shoulder, down her arm, until he reached her fingers. When she stole a glimpse at him, she found he was on one knee, gripping her waist before dropping to his other knee._

_He turned her around to face him. She was still grasping her dress to cover her breast that were growing tender and yearning for his attention._

_Looking down at him, he was pure sex._

_His hair untamed and disheveled, she wanted to run her fingers through the strands so bad._

_“Why are you down there?”_

_He smirked, and then his fingers found the small slit in the dress. Reaching out, he brushed his hand over her calf, sliding it delicately up to her knee._

_“Because,” he rumbled, “I want to make you a promise.”_

_She bit her lip again, a groan escaped his. He watched with lust filled eyes and when she realized what her hold on her bruised lips did, she started smiling slyly._

_“What promise?” she whispered, hand absentmindedly rubbing against her clothed breast._

_“I promise to make your mind shatter,” he breathed out, “to make this, right here, the hardest you ever came, the strongest you ever felt, and,” he placed an open mouth kiss against her dress covered thigh, “the loudest you ever screamed.”_

_She wanted to throw cation to the wind. Her body began to tremble as the words met her ears. They were in a changing room, and while it felt like they were the only ones, she was sure there had to be at least one other person in a changing room a couple of doors down._

_But, she wanted to throw cation to the wind. And with him, right there in front of her, on his knees making promises she knew he would come through on._

_She threw cation to the wind._

_“I’m wet,” she whimpered, rubbing her thighs together. That seemed to do it._

_A loud rip was heard; with a shocked expression she saw that the slit now reached to her mid-thigh. The fabric gave, tiny pieces of thread hung unfastened as her hungry gaze turned into a scornful glare._

_“Bell,” she squealed taking a very reluctant step back from him. “You ruined my dress.”_

_“I’ll buy you a thousand more.” He promised leaning forward. He pulled her down until she was on her knees as well, right in front of him._

_“I could have just done this,” she let go of her hold on her dress, exposing her breasts, her stomach, and the band of her not-so-sexy underwear._

_“Fucking hell,” his low voice rocked her, making the wetness at her center feel like drowning in the fucking river._

_She peered up at him from beneath her lashes, reaching out a tentative hand to stroke the side of his face, tracing the line of his sharp jaw._

_It happened fast, but felt like fucking slow motion when he moved forward crashing his lips against hers. She was expecting fireworks, a wild spark of light to travel through her but what she received was way worse, as he nipped at her bottom lip, licking the bruise she formed there, and sucking the air out of her._

_Butterflies were having a bar fight in the pit of her stomach. She urged him on, pushing, shoving and truly taking all he’s giving her in the kiss. He deepened it, catching her cheek bones, her jaw with his entire hand and pulling her in closer until they were chest to chest._

_Her breasts pressed against the cloth of his t-shirt was nice, but she craved his skin. She pulled at the hem of his shirt and he broke the kiss only to plant a few extras on both sides of her face. She tugged at the hem again to which he nodded quickly in understanding. He couldn’t keep his lips off her as he stole one quick chaste kiss from her lips in between his hold on his t-shirt that he threw over his head then somewhere else on the floor._

_She closed the distance between them once more, this time her hard pecks were digging into the broadness of his chest._

_“You know how you made me a promise?” she asked breathless as he coated every inch of her in tiny kisses from her earlobe down to her cleavage. He groaned his response._

_“Well I have a promise for you.”_

_She lost sight of her fingers as they ran through his curls, massaging his scalp._

_His attention was now where it rightly belonged. He parted his own red, bruised lips, gently sucking the supple flesh of her right breast. He was no doubt forming a very wide, very bold mark. She was about to continue her staggered speech when his teeth found her nipple, and then he was grazing and pulling at it. A moan erupted out of her, a sound she never heard before, a sound that caused him to press a palm flat against the small of her back and pull her even closer to him, if possible._

_“I promise,” she whimpered again. Her voice, coaxed in pleasure, unable to produce functioning sentences only excited him. She felt his bulge closing in on her underwear line. She fought back the urge to just reach out, putting herself out of her misery._

_“I promise,” she started again, “to make you roar.”_

_He froze, teeth like ice latched onto wet skin, despite how hot the air coming out of his mouth was as it hit against her shuddering skin._

_He pulled back, eyes darker than ever. A hunger unlike any other._

_A bright shriek tickled her throat but was dissolved just as quick as he picked her up and slammed her between the adjacent of the wall and himself before bringing her lips down to meet his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, dying to have not a single inch of space between them. Her legs followed suit, wrapping around his waist, drilling her heel into the flesh that met his hip and ass._

_With his lips still dancing along her own, he pushed his right hand between them. She complained with quieter moans against his tongue at the distance he created but when he shoved the flimsy fabric covering her mold to the side, her moans changed drastically._

_Parting their lips from such a passionate embrace, she peeked down at herself, the liquid sliding down his abs was hers. All hers. All hers that he had happily caused._

_No warning, not one indication was giving as he thrust his middle finger deep in her. Her wetness dripped down her inner thighs. He was almost about to roar at the feeling let alone the sight. He slipped out of her just as suddenly._

_“Fuck,” she groaned, grinding down on his abdomen. He halted her efforts, instead running the edge of his thumb alongside her clit welcoming another, much louder, moan to meet his ears._

_He continued the motion, driving her insane. He didn’t dare plunge another digit in her, no matter how frantic her moans were getting or how hard her thighs were tightening around his waist. Then when she was about to throw her frustrated head back and push him away searching for her own fingers to take over, he surprised her with the entrance of two fingers._

_Her hair prickled his cheek, his neck, as she leaned down biting his shoulder tenderly, although she wanted nothing close to tenderness when it came to him. His left hand gripped her ass, leaving behind red marks as he pinched her roughly._

_She removed her face from his shoulder, meeting his eyes as he kept his rhythm. She leaned her forehead down, until it hit his with a soft thud intermingling their shared erratic breathing._

_Ocean blue eyes locked on rich brown ones, she reached her long arm down between them. Unzipping his pants, she freed his member who sprang up, flicking past the bottom of her ass in the process._

_A challenging smirk appeared as she gripped the base and began stroking ever so lightly making him question if she was even holding it. He pinched her ass harder in retaliation yet what made her squeeze him tighter was when he crooked his fingers, hitting a spot deep inside her walls that caused a spasm to gush through her. She couldn’t go on like this anymore. She wanted, needed to feel full. Full of him, full of love and lust and pressure that no one can ever give her but him._

_She said as much. Mewing to his grunting, lacing the words with knee trembling kisses all over his ear. It was enough to have him shoving his pants further down, kicking them away from his ankles and pushing her harder until her back and the wall were one._

_“I-I” she tried to get out._

_“I know.”_

_She shook her head, her hair cascading down her shoulders, her back, swaying as she shook her head over and over. “No, I want to say it.”_

_He grunted, loud, “say it.”_

_“I love you.”_

_Another violent rip echoed, bouncing off the walls and wooden door. She felt exposed as a cool rush of air hit her. When she peered over his shoulder, she knew why._

_“You gonna keep ripping up my clothes?”_

_They weren’t the sexiest underwear she owned, but still._

_“I’ll buy you a thousand more,” he repeated his earlier statement._

_“Why bother, you’ll just rip them a thousand more times.”_

_A confident smirk pierced her soul as she witnessed how cockiness on him isn’t as endearing as she thought it would be._

_He replaced his fingers with his throbbing member eliciting a sharp gasp from her. The sleekness that welcomed him in caused a rowdier grumble in his chest, vibrating through to her own. He shifted her higher up, before slamming her down onto him again. She hooked her heels at the base of his spine, dragging him in closer and closer._

_He changed the angle, hitting that spot that caused a feeling of a million electric shocks going off at once._

_Then, she came._

_He froze, eyes hazy, fingertips white from gripping her tight and so close to him. A warm glow covered her cheeks, she bumped her forehead against his nose in admiration._

_“Fuck,” his favourite word came slamming in with his hot breath lingering on her upper lip, right by the mole he often loved to kiss._

_“I couldn’t stop it,” she whined, voice cracking as he picked up his pace once more._

_The sounds coming from them, from their flesh meeting, becoming one was exhilarating. So exhilarating that she forgot where they were exactly._

_She turned her head to the side, begging her body to relax so she can last longer this time around. But when she caught their mingled bodies in the mirror parallel to them, she couldn’t keep the moan in._

_He turned to see what she saw._

_They both watched each other through the glass, watched as he disappeared in her, again and again and again. When she met his eyes again there was pure amusement in them. His smirking mouth was alluring, captivating, intoxicating. She turned to face him, pecking his cheek with open mouthed kisses until he turned and grabbed her lips in a toe-curling kiss._

_She arched her back, deepening the kiss. Her breasts scraping his collarbone as she bounced, meeting each and every one of his thrusts._

_Clarke gave him back as much as he gave her. Releasing his top lip, her screams grew louder and louder, just as he promised. And when the time came, she muttered the filthiest words to boost his ego until he came tumbling with her. Experiencing a high so unlike any pleasure he ever felt, she gushed out brilliantly and the sound that came from his parting lips was nothing remotely close to a roar._

_It was so much more._

_It was thunderous. Shaking her bones, the walls, the entire world with its power. She was oh so tempted to kiss at his lips, swallowing the sound but knowing she caused it, that it was her who made him give that lusty cry, as she had promised, it made her come undone all over again._

_He splattered kisses, soft, gentle ones all over her face. Reminding her of his undying love for her in more ways than one. In more times than once._

_“You found me,” she gave a breathy sigh._

_Brushing the loose strands from the side of her face, he smiled broadly making the beating in her heart halt, miss a beat, then boom back up at an alarming speed._

_“I found you.”_

“I think I’ll go with this one,” Gina’s voice was like a sinking anchor, bringing her back to life.

 

“W-what?” Clarke asked. She felt the apples of her cheeks burn up while trying to regulate her breathing. She was also trying not to think of the pooling dampness that was collecting at her core.

 

“The red lace,” Gina smiled, handing over the garment.

 

“Right,” Clarke nodded, forcing herself with whatever strength was left in her to grasp the dress and smile. Guilt and shame ate at her. She couldn’t meet Gina’s eyes, not with the other vision still so clear at the back of her mind.

 

She felt his eyes on her. Watching her every movement, her every step as she gave him her back and returned to the check-out counter where Raven quivered her brows.

 

“Why the fuck, are you so red?”

 

“It was hot in there,” the words felt all too weird coming out of her mouth.

 

It was truly the funniest thing ever. She was not this kind of girl. She didn’t fantasize about other people’s boyfriends or girlfriends and never like that. That vividly, like it had happened or like it was real.

 

“I’m sure it was,” Raven said slyly.

 

Clarke was taken back. Was she speaking out loud? She didn’t have time to process Raven’s response properly or even evaluate exactly what had taken place…minutes- was it minutes?

 

“How long was I back there?” she asked anxiously.

 

The Latina gave her an odd look, glancing briefly to the back opening where three shadows lingered in the threshold of the dressing room.

 

“I don’t know, ten minutes maybe,” Raven shrugged before continuing, “One of the girls came out and you said something about how nice she looked, then the other came out but you didn’t say anything to her, and then yeah…” she trailed off, recalling the chain of events that Clarke didn’t remember.

 

She had mentioned that Gina looked beautiful in the pink dress, but she had not seen her in the red laced one. Nor did she see the dress Octavia had picked out.

 

“Hey Babe,” she heard a shrieking Octavia say as she jumped into the arms of a darker, muscular man. He wrapped his arms around her, engulfing her tiny frame as his laughter echoed brightly amidst the dreary weather outside.

 

Why hadn’t the bell on top of the door chime? It was later on in that night that she realized it did, but she was too consumed in her lost state of mind to have heard it.

 

The new couple whispered quiet words to each other, while the other couple walked closer to the wooded counter, one smiling and one glaring with such intensity.

 

“You find everything okay, Gina?” Raven asked, starting to ring up Gina’s purchase.

 

“Yes, thanks for all your help,” Gina directed her praise to both ladies, grabbing Bellamy’s hand and tucking it closer to her side as possible.

 

The typing of the keys cut the silence between them as Raven worked the computerized register.

 

The blonde found herself fighting every instinct that told her to look at him.

 

Just once.

 

Just to see if he might have any correlation to her desire filled vision.

 

Yet, she knew better.

 

Bellamy didn’t care, he didn’t even know who she was to form any opinion of her. She embarrassed herself enough by staying behind in that dressing room, and then zoning out into her own shameful dirty fantasy.

 

She was a nobody to him.

 

It hurt more than she’d thought it would, admitting these words, but that was the reality of it.

 

Bellamy, whatever his last name was, didn’t care for her the way she craved someone would. If anything, he posed as a constant reminder of her single, confused, and cowardly life she holds near and dear.

 

So, she didn’t look at him. She didn’t spare him a speck of attention in case she loses herself again. Despite feeling his haunting brown orbs analyzing her entire being, body, soul and all.

 

“Have a great day,” Raven’s tired voice said to both customers. She waved to the third one, who waved back only to be hauled out of the store by her handsome companion.

 

It wasn’t until the ding of the bell rang, the doors opened and shut, and the air shifted from its hot mist, did Clarke finally look up and back outside the glass window, watching as his broad shoulders disappeared from her view.

 

“Just so you know,” she heard a quip from beside her, “He was totally checking you out.”

 

“Just so you know,” she replied, “That was his girlfriend.”

 

The soft chuckle that her coworker gave didn’t help ease her mind. Raven mumbled something about checking the store one last time before they would officially close up and leave for the day.

 

“They were probably the first, last and only customers of the day, so I think there’s no reason to stay,” she argued, footsteps moving farther away until Clarke stood behind the counter alone.

 

The grey harsh clouds began crawling closer and closer until they laid directly above them, covering the entire sky. The rain began to pour in an instant. Droplets sliding down the window to the melody of a sad serenade.

 

She kept her gaze fixed on the clouds.

 

When she woke up this morning, she wasn’t Clarke Griffin. She hadn’t been for a while. She came to TonDc to try to be that girl again. What she didn’t know was that girl was so far gone. In her place was one who was easily frightened by the mere idea of following her dreams, she was frightened of failure, of not being good enough, worthy enough.

 

The Clarke Griffin in her fantasy. She was true to herself, she was caught up in someone who was just as caught up in her. It was romantic, and beautiful and when she was withering from that amount of love he was driving into her, she felt her most vulnerable.

 

It was a spark. It was a change in her inner self that told her to fight for it. To leave the store tonight and rush to make the transfer. To study art and leave the future open for whatever comes from that. To be content in herself that she doesn’t revert to having dreams about people showering her with affection she never gave herself.

 

She would be that Clarke Griffin.

 

“I’m quitting,” she spoke a loud when Raven returned with her shoulder bag ready to clock out.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m quitting!” a bubbly laugh scratched her throat, “I’m going to hand in my two weeks’ notice. Then I’m going to enroll in Art Studies, and I’m going to apply for jobs that I actually like.”

White teeth peeked from behind rosy lips as Raven threw her head back laughing, a wild sound that rubbed Clarke the wrong way. She raised an eyebrow in question, waiting not so patiently for her friend to calm down.

 

“Oh, you’re serious?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Fucking finally,” Raven said, a genuine smile appearing.

 

“What?”

 

Clarke was beyond confused. But when Raven pulled her in for a tight hug, she knew that this was a moment her friend was probably waiting months, maybe even years, to happen.

 

“The only thing that held me back from slamming Anya’s forehead into the wall or telling her to go fuck herself was you, babe. Now that you’re done with this place, so am I!”

 

“ _You_ can’t be serious.”

 

The determination in those fiery eyes were enough conformation. Clarke pulled her in for another hug.

 

“You’ll do great out there in the big bad world.” Raven said into her shoulder as she pulled her tighter, giving her whatever strength and motivation she needed.

 

Together, they locked the doors to the little boutique, rushing to the bus stop across the street.

 

Inside the bus shelter with their foggy breath seen in the cold autumn air, Raven said, “Can I ask you something though?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“And you’ll answer honestly?”

 

She gave Raven a quirked brow furrow, and then a cunning grin, “Depends,” she teased.

 

“What was up with you and that guy?”

 

Her beating heart thudded into a raging roar, much like the one that escaped parted lips, and she froze in place.

 

“Look, I’m the last person to ask questions, especially with the way I’ve been dealing with the whole Wick thing.”

 

“I didn’t realize there was a Wick thing?” Clarke faked a mocking tone, trying to hush the way her blood pounded in her ears that managed to even phase out the sound of the rain.

 

“But,” Raven continued as if she was never interrupted, “There was something weird there, I think even the girl notice, she grabbed his hand so hard I thought she was going to pull his arm out of its socket.”

 

Her head snapped, meeting Raven’s eyes dead on. She could easily lie.

 

She could say that it was nothing. He was weird and a jerk for looking at her when he had someone on his arm, no matter how latched on they were.

 

Instead she said, “I don’t know.”

 

Everything lingered. His scent, his print on her body, the taste of him, the feel of his kiss, it all started blistering her flesh. As if it had just happened. Igniting once more.

 

“I came to TonDc because I had a feeling it was where I belonged,” she found herself murmuring, “and maybe it is.” She concluded wistfully.

 

Water drops continued to come down, harder, then lighter, then harder again. She switched her gaze to look at the wet pavement, the small town drowning in gloominess.

 

Although she wasn’t gloomy. She had new hope, new confidence.

 

“But with that guy,” her heart skipped a beat, “I felt like I knew him.”

 

“Maybe you did in another life?”

 

She knew it was meant as a joke, yet…the idea of it created a rush of something magical to move through Clarke.

 

“Or maybe you’ll know him in the future?”

 

This time Clarke didn’t fake a laugh, or steer herself clear from any unwanted, uninvited questions.

 

“Maybe.”


End file.
